


Pandora's Box

by Czigany



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Mass Effect Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Czigany/pseuds/Czigany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's a C-Sec rookie, she's a beautiful admin assistant. Or is she? A man discovers his gorgeous asari girlfriend is actually an undercover Spectre. So was the whole relationship a lie? Pre-ME1. Short kmeme fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Betrayal of the Past

_Well, this is rather surprising,_ Alan thought as his girlfriend pulled him down behind the far side of his breakfast bar to avoid the hail of gunfire. The day had been going so well, too.  
  
He’d gone to work as usual that morning, spent his patrol making the rounds on the Presidium before settling behind his desk to fill out the usual paperwork. Shulin had stopped by his desk with a cup of coffee and a smile to tell him she’d be making dinner at his place and not to be late coming off his shift. He’d reflected on the cab ride home that he really had the best girlfriend ever, nervously fingering the small box he’d been carrying around for weeks.  
  
“Don’t just sit there,” she hissed, “Shoot something.”  
  
Alan could follow orders, it was why he was so good at his job, surrounded by turians who felt the same. So, as she’d ordered, he waited for a break in the fire to pop his head up and take stock of the remaining thugs. Shulin used the lull to flip over their cover and start throwing people around with her biotics. There wasn’t much he could do then, aside from fire a few rounds into the bodies she tossed at his feet. He was proud that he managed to pick off one she’d missed though, dropping the snarling human with a well-placed round to the head.  
  
When all targets were down, she seemed to look around for someone in particular. Turning over bodies until she found the one he’d picked off while her back had been turned. “Augh,” she moaned, leaning down to rifle through the man’s pockets. “Of all the targets Alan, why’d you have to kill this one?”  
  
“You told me to shoot, so I shot,” he defended, pulling up his omnitool to call the raid in to work.  
  
She stopped him by taking his hand and pulling him towards the door. “No time for that, I’ll deal with it later. We need to move before they regroup.”  
  
She pulled him along, ignoring his protests as they took the less defensible yet infinitely faster staircase up to the garage level. Alan knew she had a car. He was jealous of course, but she’d told him her turian father had left it to her when he died. _Unless he died in the last year though, she was definitely lying,_ he thought as they slipped into a sleek black model he wasn’t sure was even on the market yet.  
  
She was tensely silent as they swept through the light night-cycle traffic on the ward but he knew he had to ask. And if they had a quiet moment... “What was that, Shulin? Why did my apartment just get shot up by a bunch of mercs? And why didn’t you let me call it in to C-Sec?”  
  
“I...” she sighed, glancing around before dropping the aircar into cover on top of a building. Idling the engine, she scrubbed her face with her hands tiredly before turning to look him in the eyes. “I’m a Spectre, Alan. Those mercs were after me because of a drug bust I pulled a few weeks back. I almost got the ringleaders, but they slipped through my fingers. Tonight was retaliation.”  
  
“A Spectre?”  
  
His mind stuttered a moment. His beautiful asari girlfriend was a Spectre? That... made a lot of sense, actually. But it also meant...  
  
“So this was all a cover,” his voice was flat and she flinched at the lack of emotion.  
  
“Yes! No! Augh! We don’t have time for this, Alan.”  
  
She gave another check around before lifting off again. The box in his pocket felt like lead. His heart was like ice in his chest. He smoothed his expression, masking his hurt behind a façade of cold neutrality. “Let me out, Shulin,” he demanded quietly as they approached the Presidium. “If that’s even your name.”  
  
“I’ll let you out when we get to the safehouse and not before,” she ground out between clenched teeth.  
  
Alan was silent as they skipped between the wards; silent as she parked in another unassuming apartment building; silent as she led him to the lift and punched in the floor. She watched him as he looked around the apartment without comment. Finally she huffed. “Look, I’m sorry I kept it from you, but it was kind of a secret necessary for the sting to work.”  
  
When he didn’t reply, she snarled and stormed about the place, pulling guns and armour from where she’d stashed it ages ago. Pausing at the door, she pointed back at him. “Just stay here until I come and get you. You’re safe here. We can work all this out later.”  
  
And with that, Alan was alone.  
  
\---  
  
It was nearly a week before Shulin could get back to the safehouse where she’d left Alan. It hadn’t been her intention to get attached to the human, but he’d courted her so sweetly, bringing her presents and flowers and even writing a ridiculous poem for her. She hadn’t been able to help herself. At first she’d rationalised it as furthering her cover as a simple administrative assistant, but slowly she’d found herself developing actual feelings for him.  
  
She’d had it all planned out, too. She’d take out the drug ring - bust some thugs, shoot up some bad guys, save the day - before sitting him down to explain that she was actually a Spectre but that while their relationship had been part of her cover it didn’t mean she didn’t have feelings for him.  
  
 _Of course it wouldn’t work out that way._ Saren had even warned her against getting attached. He hated humans though, so she hadn’t taken his advice seriously.  
  
Even so, she’d been prepared for anger. She’d seen enough of humanity’s hot temper to know what to expect on that front. She hadn’t been prepared for the cold detachment she’d received. His dead eyes and lack of response unnerved her and she knew that it was so much worse than the explosion she’d braced herself for.  
  
The safehouse was empty, as she’d hoped it wouldn’t be but known it would. Mechanically, she replaced her armour and weapons, trying to tell herself it was better this way. He wouldn’t be able to stand up to her normal life and humanity had yet to prove themselves worthy of Spectre status. It was as she was idly straightening the tchotchkes she kept around to give the place a sense of normality if it was ever raided that she came across the box.  
  
It sat innocently on her bedside table, weighing down a small, folded note marked with her name _in quotes. Oh Goddess that hurts._ She opened the note first and immediately wished she hadn’t. She sat down heavily on the bed and tried hard not to cry. She didn’t dare open the box. Instead, she wrapped the note around it and went in search of her human.  
  
It was odd, as a Spectre, to find herself blocked at every turn. Oh, the ladies and gentlemen at C-Sec were all unfailingly polite and never denied her access to anything, but no matter what time she seemed to stop by Alan was never in. Finally, a girl named Sarah took her aside and told her it was probably best if she stopped coming by. When she caught the flicker of pain on Shulin’s face, the human darted a look around and slipped her a note before patting her arm and leaving her with her cooling coffee.  
  
They met in a small cafe and when the whole tale had spilled out over tea and khave, Sarah asked to see the box. Shulin watched her carefully as it was opened, feeling her heart sink at the look of pity and shared pain when the human saw what it contained. The asari risked a peek, confused over the symbolism of the glittering band yet not ignorant of the amount Alan must have saved to purchase it.  
  
“It’s an engagement ring,” Sarah murmured, shaken. “It’s an offer. A promise to marry - to bond. Usually for life.”  
  
It was a tribute to her torture resistance training that Shulin only gave a shuddering sigh and closed the box, tucking it back into her armour.  
  
Sarah shifted uncomfortably for a moment before leaning forward again. “We... have a bit of a pact at the station, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I think I can convince them of my plan but only if you know what you want.”  
  
Her voice hardened and the asari had the unpleasant sensation of being scolded like a young maiden, “I won’t be a party to setting that poor boy up again just to watch you break his heart a second time.”  
  
Shulin swallowed hard and nodded, listening intently to what the other woman had to say.  
  
\---  
  
 _Well, this is a surprise,_ Alan grumbled silently. For the past month or so, he’d come in to work to find a small gift on his desk. At first it had been a welcome change to the monotony of the weeks since he had left Shulin’s safehouse, his heart and a ring in a box on her bedside table. Now it was to the point that his co-workers would try to guess what would show up the next day.  
  
Whoever was leaving them knew his schedule which, he had to admit, was a little creepy. He’d once stopped by on his day off and, out of curiosity, peeked in to find his desk bare. He’d been strangely disappointed. His next shift, however, saw a small bottle of cologne accompanied by a small kaliti bud, barely opened. Caetus chuckled and told him the flower was native to Palavan and was generally given as an apology.  
  
Still, it was getting a little awkward. This present was the smallest he’d seen yet, it’s size was a little worrisome but he pushed that thought away as soon as it had formed. Caetus and Illora were leaning against the side of his desk, just waiting to see what was inside. Alan knew from experience that ignoring them wouldn’t make them go away and ignoring a gift just encouraged them to open it for him.  
  
He sighed and sat back in his chair. Tipping his head towards the hovering turians, he rested a hand on the box. “I think I need a bit of coffee before I open this one. One of you want to get me a cup?”  
  
It wasn’t really a request but, as soon as he’d asked, a steaming mug of the heavy black brew was at his elbow. Sarah snickered at his bewildered expression. “Better open it before they do. Wouldn’t want their talon-prints all over it, would you?”  
  
Both Caetus and Illora snapped their teeth at her in mock warning and she laughed all the way back to her desk. Taking a fortifying sip of the hot drink, Alan slowly peeled the wrapping from the unassuming package. When he finally pulled the last of the paper from it, he froze. There, nestled in tasteful trappings, was the box he’d left with Shulin three months ago. _Exactly three months,_ he realised. _Damn._  
  
Caetus, apparently ignorant of this particular present’s significance, nudged him lightly. “Well? Going to open it or are you going to let us have the honour?”  
  
Alan’s hand closed on the small black box possessively and, breathing deep, he cracked open the lid. Inside, rather than the ring he’d bought for the asari he’d wanted to marry, was a small piece of paper, folded into a tiny origami kaliti. Spying marks across the delicate petals, he gently unfolded the flower.  
  
 _I’m sorry._  
  
Shulin’s handwriting.  
  
He couldn’t breathe. He needed to get away.  
  
Shoving the paper and the box into his pocket, Alan grabbed his keys and fled. Maybe they’d fire him for leaving so abruptly but at that moment, he didn’t think he could muster the will to care.  
  
Across the room, Caetus caught Sarah’s eye and nodded once, deliberately. She gave no indication of understanding what he meant, but her hand flicked to her omnitool and she subtly pressed ‘send’ on a priority message.


	2. Agony of the Present

Shulin was pacing, the only indication of her nervousness.  She’d received word from Sarah that Alan had left C-Sec, upset at her last gift. It had been expected, but some part of her had wanted him to see her message and know she meant it. She had ruthlessly crushed her most optimistic fantasies - the ones where he came rushing back to her and declared they were golden and please could they get bonded or married or whatever now? - and grimly reminded herself that their current situation was her fault. Mostly.  
  
Her omnitool pinged again. He’d been spotted at the bar in Purgatory. She flicked her eyes at the clock; barely 1000 Citadel time.This wouldn’t do. She sent the address of her human’s new apartment to the officer who had seen him. It would be up to this... Garrus to get him home. She chafed at the thought of being unable to help, but Sarah had told her he needed distance now so distance he would get.  
  
Shulin had only one more present for her little human. One last letter, capped with a ridiculous poem and delivered with a ring. It was going to be hard, giving up the band he’d bought for her, but she needed to send the same message he had.  
  
She wondered if human males also wore ‘engagement rings’ to proclaim their promise. It wasn’t as though expense were a problem and then, even if he never spoke to her again, she would always be able to keep a piece of him beside her heart.  
  
She sent the question to Sarah and made her way to the Presidium Markets.  
  
\---  
  
Garrus had thought about the logistics of drunk humans plenty of times before. It was necessary to understand all the ways they could react in order to subdue them in the event of a bar fight. The logistics of _this_ drunk human, however, escaped him. For some reason, an asari Spectre was intensely interested in seeing that he got home alright. Normally he would rail against the appropriation of Citadel forces for personal goals, but when the human in question was a C-Sec employee and supposed to be on duty, Garrus understood that the Spectre’s goals were currently perfectly in line with C-Sec’s own.  
  
That didn’t mean he was comfortable having the rambling male draped across his shoulders, but it seemed the simplest way to get his alcohol-limbered body to comply was to pick him up entirely and bodily ‘escort’ him home. By the time they got to the man’s apartment, Garrus had been treated to a complete rundown of the underlying issues in what appeared to be a soap opera of a relationship.  
  
Mandibles pressed tight to his cheeks in irritation, he laid the man down on the couch, stripped him of his sidearm and boots, and coaxed him into drinking two large glasses of water. Now, staring down at the bleary-eyed human, he sighed. “Why don’t you just take her back?”  
  
“It’s not that easy,” Alan slurred, “You can’t just ‘sorry’ away a betrayal like that.”  
  
“And if she truly has feelings for you?” the turian questioned shrewdly.  
  
“Flowers and presents don’t count! You can’t buy love like that, Vakarian,” the human snarled as best he could, even though he didn’t appear to have control over all of his facial muscles.  
  
“Flowers? I was unaware that asari courtship involved flowers.”  
  
“She gave me some damn turian plant. Caetus said it was for sorrys but it doesn’t work like that in real life,” he groaned, head lolling back against the cushions.  
  
Garrus stilled. “For apologies? She gave you a kaliti?”  
  
“Yeah, twice. Kinda.”  
  
“Caetus is an idiot.”  
  
“Huh?” Alan tried to focus, irises dilating and contracting before he gave up and closed his eyes again.  
  
“Kaliti isn’t for simple apologies,” his mandibles clicked in agitation. “It’s for begging forgiveness.”  
  
“How would _you_ know?”  
  
Ah, good. Here was the belligerence he’d expected earlier, though the effect was ruined somewhat by the human flopping ineffectually against the couch he lay upon.  
  
“Unlike your friend, I have an older sister who greatly enjoys flower arranging.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Silence, then mumbling. The turian strained to pick it up. “Still... that doesn’t... can’t just...” Alan trailed off with a snore.  
  
Garrus sighed and fetched a blanket, draping it over the prone human. Setting another glass of water and the wastebasket close at hand, He sent a quick message back to the Spectre before returning to his investigation. He’d done his part. They could work out the rest themselves.  
  
\---  
  
Alan woke with a start, the unfamiliarity of sleeping on the couch coupled with the relative newness of his current apartment pulling him from his sleep with an adrenaline-amplified heatbeat. He checked his omnitool nervously. A message from Sarah, telling him to be careful; one from Inspector Gailin, ‘recommending’ that he take a few days off; and some spam from a pro-human splinter group that he deleted without reading. Not fired, then. Yet.  
  
Groaning, he scrubbed his face with his hands. Maybe he should ask for some leave. He’d been saving it, hoping that if Shulin had agreed to his proposal he could have taken them somewhere nice to celebrate, but now... He hadn’t seen his parents in a while and Demeter was sufficiently far from the Citadel; firmly in human space and an unlikely mission target for a Spectre.  
  
He checked the time and found it just past 17.30. Rolling his neck and wincing at the pops, he stood and made his way towards the bathroom. He’d message his parents, take a shower, eat some food, and then clean up his apartment a bit. Maybe after all that he could sleep for real. He’d ask the Inspector about leave tomorrow.  
  
He must’ve gotten his note off just before a batch push, because the reply from Demeter arrived just as he was drying the last of the dishes. He almost swore when he realised that maybe wanting to go home wasn’t the best idea. His parents wanted to meet Shulin.  
  
Alan slumped down onto the couch again, tipping his head back to stare blankly at the ceiling. His mum had been so excited too, even after his hesitance to admit to them that he was dating an asari. As ‘exotic species’ went, asari were pretty tame, but it was still outside normal and he’d been worried about their reactions. Now he wondered how to break it to them that they wouldn’t ever get to meet her.  
  
He sighed; he was making things too complicated. He’d just tell them she had to work and explain the situation once they were face to face. Decision made, he hauled himself back up, tossing the towel he’d been using back onto the counter and turning towards the bedroom. He was weary and guiltily glad that he wasn’t expected in at work in the morning.  
  
He also wasn’t expecting the little black box on his nightstand, weighing down a note addressed to him. Alan stood in the doorway for a long moment, running through all the implications of being the ex to a woman who could go anywhere and, legally, do anything without repercussions. Warily, he approached the bed, tugging the folded slip of paper out and opening it slowly.  
  
 _D’lasim,_  
  
 _I know you have no reason to trust me anymore, but please believe that I never meant for this to happen. Goddess knows I wanted to tell you everything, but doing so would have placed you in more danger than I could bear._  
  
 _Unless you wish it, this will be the last communication between us. In case this is our final goodbye, I want you to know..._  
  
The ink was smudging. Alan swiped at his face distractedly, the letter crumpling in his fist as he tried to stem the flow of tears.  
  
When Sarah checked on him the next morning, she found him curled on the floor beside his bed, the ring box and note clutched to his chest as though they were the most precious objects in the universe.


	3. Hope for the Future

Amelia sighed softly as she closed the door to her son’s room. He’d been emotionally drained after telling her all about the last few months and fallen into an exhausted sleep. She frowned as she thought back to all the messages he’d sent them about his girlfriend. He may not yet be at a point where he could look at the situation objectively, but perhaps she could remind him that happiness was worth fighting for. Resolved, she headed for the family terminal, snagging a spare datapad on the way.  
  
Alan awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs. Stomach rumbling, he rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to wash the sleep from his eyes and the fuzz from his teeth. Running a damp hand through his mussed hair before giving it up as a lost cause, he followed his nose to the kitchen, arriving just as his father was setting a plate down on the table.  
  
“Sit. Eat,” Pyotr invited, returning to the stove to fix up another meal for himself. “Mama has gone to Lusia - shopping, you know - but will be back for supper.”  
  
Alan watched as the older man limped back to the table, foregoing the cane propped against a counter in order to bring a datapad along with his meal. He knew from experience that any offer to help would be rejected, but he stood and fetched the length of wood on the pretext of grabbing them each a glass of juice as well. His father huffed, amused and knowing, before shoving the pad across the table.  
  
“Don’t read it now, you’ll spoil your breakfast,” he grumbled. “Instead, tell me of your work. Has it been exciting lately?”  
  
A wry smile on his lips, Alan began to outline some of their more interesting cases. The Presidium didn’t see as much action as the stations in the Wards usually did, but they did get some... characters, to say the least. He caught himself describing Shulin’s actions or reactions more than once, stuttering around them when he realised what he was doing. Pyotr graciously pretended not to notice.  
  
When the dishes were clean, Alan stepped out onto the front porch, settling on the small bench to read the datapad in the clear morning air. Pyotr found him hours later, staring out over the quiet neighborhood with a pensive look on his face and the small electronic device clutched tightly in his hands. He eased himself down onto the bench beside his son, who absently shifted to give him more room.  
  
Patting Alan’s knee gently, the older man sighed. “You tell your father what’s wrong, hm? There hasn’t been a face that long since the drought in ‘63.”  
  
It was some time before he got a reply, and Alan’s voice was soft with distraction. “Mama thinks I ought to give Shulin another chance.”  
  
“You don’t want to, you don’t do it,” Pyotr declared definitively. “That’s how you have always been.”  
  
They sat in silence until the shadows were short and their stomachs rumbled faintly. Chuckling, Pyotr stood to re-enter the house. Pausing, he turned back to his son. “You think too hard and you will convince yourself of anything, _fiam_. Often, your first instinct was the right one. Wait too long to decide and she will do it for you.”  
  
Finally turning his gaze from the surrounding houses, Alan watched his father retreat, his head full of conflicting thoughts.  
  
\---  
  
 _There is nothing harder than watching your children hurt over the choices they’ve made and being unable to do anything but help clean up the aftermath,_ Matriarch Thysae mused as she sipped her tea and listened to her daughter spill her heart. It wasn’t often that Shulin visited anymore. Being a Spectre meant she was usually completely out of contact for civilians and the Matriarch had her own duties to attend to.  
  
Sighing, she patted her daughter’s hand. “It is for the best, I think,” she murmured, shaking her head as Shulin made to protest. “Not that you are separated, but that you are giving him time to think. He must make his own decisions and they will be best arrived at without pressure.”  
  
The Spectre was about to respond when the soft _ping_ of her omnitool indicated an incoming message. Thysae nodded when she apologised, aware of the time-sensitive nature of most of her daughter’s communications. She looked up from preparing another cup of tea when Shulin gasped sharply. Wide eyes met hers, and any thought of refreshments was forgotten at the hopeful panic she caught there.  
  
“I need to go,” the younger declared breathlessly.  
  
Her mother nodded with a soft smile, rising to embrace the frantic Spectre. “Goddess smile on you, my darling.”  
  
Pulling back, Thysae smoothed a hand over her daughter’s cheek. “Remember, your father would have been appalled at your choices...”  
  
“...until he had time to think them over,” Shulin finished their now-traditional farewell with a smile, bussing her mother’s cheek before leaving to pack.  
  
Watching her go, the Matriarch’s smile turned bittersweet, fingers straying to the delicate fabric looped around her wrist. Shulin was more her father’s daughter than either of them had ever realised. She only hoped it served the young Matron well.  
  
\---  
  
The Systems Alliance may defer to the Council on galactic issues, but that didn’t mean the sudden appearance of a Spectre on the Lusia docks was something they were prepared for. Shulin found herself subject to a dozen scrutinies before a scarred young Commander swept through and cleared her with a gruff apology and a few snapped orders to the Petty Officers manning the customs desk.  
  
They made small talk as he escorted her towards the rapid transit station and he expressed surprise when she mentioned the name of her wayward human. When she pressed for details, the man admitted to knowing the family, though he declined to say how or for how long. She suppressed the urge to request his personnel files as part of an ‘investigation’; perhaps Alan would be more forthcoming. She thanked the Commander again before sliding into the cab and he gave her a wry smile and wished her good luck. She hoped she wouldn’t need it.  
  
Shulin fidgeted throughout the ride, acutely uncomfortable in civilian dress even if she still carried two concealed pistols and a small blade. The driver let her out in a small but well-maintained neighborhood. The houses had all been built around the same prefab shell, but additions and repairs over the many years since the colony’s founding made each one charmingly different from the next. Breathing deep, she straightened her spine and made her way up the walk of a neat house that was smaller than its neighbors.  
  
She tried not to think of how the door chime rang like a death knell.  
  
\---  
  
Alan had been pacing ever since his cousin had sent word from port that she had arrived  planetside. He hadn’t wanted to drag his parents into the coming conversation but he’d needed both privacy and the comfort of familiar surroundings for whatever was going to happen, so he’d asked them to head into town, his treat, and have a nice day out. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the bell sounded. Taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair, Alan tugged open the door.  
  
“Shulin,” he started, chest aching when he saw her standing nervously on the porch. Sure he’d been expecting her, but... “Come in.”  
  
She stepped inside, glancing at his bare feet before kneeling to unbuckle her boots.  
  
“You don’t have to,” he muttered, and she looked up at him for a long moment before standing again.  
  
She didn’t say anything as he led her through the house to the small sitting room at the back. Gesturing to the sofa and chairs clustered around a low table, he invited her to sit before asking if she wanted something to drink. He was grateful when she softly requested tea; it gave him a chance to retreat to the kitchen and think.  
  
He’d had a whole conversation mapped out in his head but this submissive, almost scared, face she was projecting tore his plans to pieces. Porcelain clinked as he retrieved mugs and a teapot. His thoughts drifted as he absently prepared the drink, but by the time the tray was ready he was no closer to regaining an even keel.  
  
\---  
  
Shulin was keenly observant as Alan led her through his childhood home. His apartment on the Citadel had been simply furnished; a holdover from his brief military career and something she was very familiar with. By contrast, his parents’ home was, while not cluttered, definitely full of character. It was only once they’d reached the sitting room and he offered refreshments that she became aware of just how her silence might be affecting him.  
  
She waited for him to retreat before she gave in to her curiosity. Casting a glance at the archway he’d disappeared through, the Spectre stepped over to the shelves that occupied one whole wall. Most of them were filled with books - actual, real, paper-and-ink things that she itched to touch - but some contained small trinkets and framed photographs of family and friends. It was these last that she zeroed in on, absorbing the faces that surrounded Alan in his youth. She spotted the Commander from the docks in a few, and it was only the approaching footfalls that tore her away to settle nonchalantly on one side of the sofa.  
  
Alan set the tray he’d been carrying down on the low table. Shulin watched him pour two cups of tea before handing her one and taking a seat in the chair opposite her. It had been too much to hope that he would choose to sit beside her, but she supposed this way they didn’t have to turn sideways to talk. She waited for him to speak, sipping her tea appreciatively.  
  
He watched her for a long while, his cooling mug seemingly forgotten in his hands. When he finally moved, it was to pull a small black box from his pocket. There was only the barest hesitation before he set it on the table between them.  
  
“I can’t accept this,” he murmured, meeting her eyes briefly before fixing them on a point somewhere near her left hip.  
  
She didn’t pick up the box - she already knew what it must contain, after all - and instead braced herself for the worst. Her voice was equally soft in the quiet of the house when she asked, “Why not?”  
  
He sighed, fidgeting with his mug to occupy his hands, and she resisted the urge to reach over and shake him until he saw sense. Finally he looked up at her again and she saw the conflict in his eyes.  
  
“I...” Another sigh. “I loved you Shulin, but I can’t trust you anymore.”  
  
Past tense. _Oh Goddess._ She felt her heart breaking again and clenched her fingers around her mug so tight she thought it might shatter in her hands. Some of her anguish must have shown on her face because he shook his head and continued. “Not yet, anyway. I need time. We need time.”  
  
Alan scrubbed a hand over his face and she set aside her hurt to take in the stoop of his shoulders and weariness in his normally stiff posture. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. What could she say that she hadn’t already told him? He seemed to know what she meant anyway, sighing and looking up at her from between his fingers.  
  
“I know... I know you’re sorry and you couldn’t have told me earlier. I understand, now, but we can’t just pick back up where we left off. You might be the same asari who worked at C-Sec and brought us all our coffee, but that’s only a part of you and I can’t live with only half a lover. If we do this, there can’t be any more secrets.”  
  
Her brow furrowed and he huffed slightly, interrupting her before she could voice her concerns. “Yeah, okay. I don’t need to know who or what you’re after every time the Council sends you out - just like you don’t need to know every time someone tries to tee-pee the Krogan statue or hack the elevators to make them go faster - but you know what I mean. No more _big_ secrets.”  
  
Shulin nodded in understanding, setting her empty mug on the table between them. Folding her hands loosely in her lap, she decided to simply start at the beginning. Alan sat back, eyes wide as she laid out what parts of her cover had been truth or lies or simply omissions. The shadows outside the window lengthened as they talked further, falling tentatively back towards the familiar ease they’d known before the merc raid nearly six months ago.  
  
When Alan’s parents returned, he introduced her as his girlfriend with a confidence that burnt the last of her fears from her mind. Her smile was brightly genuine as she allowed Amelia to draw her away, Pyotr clapping his son on the shoulder and leading him into the kitchen to begin a late dinner. The box that Alan absently slipped back into his pocket as he cleared away the tea tray gave her hope for the future.  
  
They weren’t perfect yet - not anywhere close - but they were getting there.  
  
She could wait.


End file.
